WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit parts involving sex between minors and adults. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.


Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.


Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at john.thestoryteller@gmail.com


Other stories on Nifty by John Teller/The Storyteller can be found here.


All rights reserved. All parts of these documents are Copyright 2012 John T. S. Teller, and may not be reproduced in any form without the author's consent. Nifty.org have permission to reproduce it on their website.




The Angel of Pie Jesu.


Book one Star in the Hood.


Part 2.


I struggle in my semi-consciousness, trying to defend my eyes from the dim light filtering through the blinds. My head feels as though a steam hammer is pounding inside it, and I allow it to flop back into the softness of my pillows, and shut my eyes tightly. Jumbled recollections: Glenfidich whisky; I'm wearing my clothes; drunk; tears; heartache, hurting me inside like a real illness. Aleric Hahn; Pie Jesu; anger; hatred... for myself. Pervert. Fucking pervert!


In the shadows of my thoughts I see his eyes: elongated, not eastern type elongated, but open-wide elongated, and they're the most gorgeous brown with a tint of green in them, with long, dark lashes. They bewitch me. But I want to be bewitched by him. I want to hold him and acquaint him with my feelings! I want to kiss him. I want his smile. My Angel of Pie Jesu. Oh my God! I close my eyes and fall into a sea of self-pity, and then blessed sleep where the tentacles of his appeal have not yet invaded.



"Good morning, Herr Albrecht. This is Kurt Beyersdorf speaking. I own Beyersdorf Fashions for Men and Boys on the Unter den Linden. I do apologise for ringing you on your personal number, but it is important to me."


Herr Albrecht's voice has a nasal tone to it. "Good morning, Herr Beyersdorf. How did you get this number? What can I do for you?"


"I went with a friend last night to see the S******** Boy's Choir at your theatre. I was thrilled with them, and I really would like to see them again. We have a mutual friend; Alfred Kron?"


I hear Herr Albrecht chuckle, and I know I'm out of the woods regarding using Alfred to gain access to him. Alfred used to be my partner before I met Heindrich, and I know he still has a lot of affection for me. It wasn't too difficult to use my wiles to get Alfred to cough up Albrecht's mobile number. It helps that Albrecht is also gay. Girls together. "Alfred. Yes, of course I know Alfred. He's a very naughty boy! But I forgive him in this instance. I've been in your shop a number of times. I should have introduced myself. I suppose you're going to tell me that we're fully booked for the three nights the boys are performing?"


I laugh. "You've got it in one. It's really for my friend. I think he's fallen in love with one of the boys. The dark haired one at the back. The one with the gorgeous smile. Would it be possible?"


Another chuckle from Albrecht. "If it's the one who stands on the far right, you can tell your friend that he'll have to take his turn behind me. I was dreaming about him last night."


I laugh. "You naughty old man, you! But he is stunning! Would it be possible?"


"For two?"


"Yes please. Right on the front row."


At this point, Albrecht breaks down with laughter. "Leave it with me, Kurt, and I'll see what I can do. And call me Christian."


"Oh, super! Do call into the shop, Christian, and I'll sort something out that will suit you. I have a wonderful selection of pure silk shirts that have just come in. I won't display them until you've had first choice. They're very sexy, and I'm only stocking one of each. We can't have a clash of colours at The Berghain, can we?"


"Certainly not! Thank you Kurt. I'll be in touch. Take care now, and tell Alfred he's in trouble. We can make him stew in his leathers for a while."


The moment my call to Albrecht has ended, I dial Gareth's office. Helena answers. We chat for a short while. Josef is still in hospital, but the prognosis is good. Gareth has rung in to say he won't be in today. Helena says she thinks he's been drinking again. She hopes he'll be well for tomorrow, because he has an important meeting in Verona and his plane leaves at nine in the morning. She asks me to try and sort him out, and I tell her I will. I want to ring Gareth, but I need to wait until Albrecht contacts me. I hope he does it soon. I couldn't tell him the truth; how utterly important it is that we get those tickets.



My Gareth. I adore him. He knows I do, but I was always under the impression that he wasn't gay. My lovely Gareth has been searching for that special love all his life, and it turns out that it's a boy! How amazing; and how wrong can one be after knowing someone for ten years! And I just know Aleric Hahn is the boy for him. I saw it in the boy's eyes. His love for my Gareth just radiated from them. Love at first sight, as it was when I saw Gareth sitting alone in The A-Train. I'll always love him, but I know he can never be mine. But that won't stop me doing everything in my power to make him happy.



I'm just about to go to lunch when I see Herr Albrecht enter the shop. I'm out of my office in a flash, and I go to greet him. "Christian! How lovely to see you, darling!"


Albrecht gives me a warm smile... and a peck on the cheek. This is going well. It goes beyond anything I imagined when he hands me an envelope, and says, "Two tickets for tomorrow night; on the front row, and two passes for the reception backstage when the boys have finished. I have two very disgruntled customers fuming because we double booked their seats. I've managed to pacify them by refunding their money, and have offered them complimentary tickets to three shows of their choice." He chuckles. "That was an expensive favour."


I'm stunned by this good fortune. But then I remember something; Gareth is going to Verona in the morning. Fuck Verona! There's no way on earth that Gareth is going to Verona! I'll sort that as soon as I've got rid of Christian. I count my lucky stars when, for courtesy's sake, I offer to show Christian the silk shirts, and he apologises and says he'll have to call tomorrow because he has urgent business. And then I chance my arm again. I've been doing nothing but plotting ever since our phone conversation, and I ask, "Do the boys practice in the afternoon? Would it be possible to go and see them?"


Christian laughs. "I thought this favour was for your friend!"


I hug his arm as we walk towards the door. "It is, but I've fallen in love with the tiny little boy; Hansie Drescher. I'd love to mother him. I also fancy the manly blond haired one at the back. He's got such a lovely expression when he frowns. I can just imagine him asking me to bring his breakfast in bed. I think I'd swoon if he lifted the bedclothes."


He laughs again. We hug. "I'll ring Lawrenz and tell him to expect you. They begin practicing at two."


I grasp his hand, and grip it tightly. "Tomorrow, my shop is yours. Free of charge of course. We'll have Alfred so randy when I've finished with you, he won't be able to get his leathers off quickly enough!"


Christian is giggling wildly as he leaves the shop.


The moment the shop door closes, I almost run to my office. When Helena answers the phone, she tells me that Gareth has rung and isn't going to the office until late afternoon, and then it's only because he needs to sort some things for the Verona meeting.


At that point, I stop her, and say "Helena, do you trust me?"


Her voice sounds a little perplexed when she answers. "Yes. Why do you ask such a silly question?"


"Do you love Gareth?"


"I don't know what you mean, Kurt. Why are you playing silly games?"


"I'm not playing silly games, Helena. I want to know if you love Gareth."


I wait for what seems an eternity before Helena answers, very quietly, "I love him like a son."


I'm astonished with myself that Helena thought I meant anything else. The thought that she would love him as a man had not crossed my mind, and my voice carries an apologetic whine when I reply, "Oh, I'm so sorry darling, of course I meant as a son! How utterly foolish of me! Please forgive me!"


I hear Helena chuckle. "You're forgiven, you stupid boy. Now what are you plotting for my boy?"


I laugh. "Our boy, but I love him as a man."


Helena's voice is curt. "You're incorrigible! Get on with it you silly boy. I'm busy!"


"Cancel his trip to Verona tomorrow. He won't be going."


"Of course he'll be going!"


"No... he will not! Tomorrow may the most important day in his life, and he will not spend it in Verona. I can't tell you anything else, but if you love Gareth, you will get on the phone to Verona and make any excuse you can for him not to be there. It really is that important!"


Helena's voice has an edge to it when she says, "I can't do that unless Gareth tells me, you know that, and the last time I spoke to him, he was going. I can't make those kinds of decisions, Kurt."


I adopt my manly voice now. "Yes you can, Helena. You must! Not only that, but if Gareth rings you or speaks to you before I have the chance to see him, you must act as if he's still going to Verona. This is very personal, and I know Gareth's personal life better than you. I have some things to do this afternoon, and when I've sorted them, I'll speak to Gareth, and I can assure you that when I do, you wouldn't be able to get Gareth to go to Verona if you offered him a hundred million Euros. Now will you do as I ask?!"


Again Helena is quiet, and then her answer makes me let out a huge sigh of relief. "Yes. But on your head be it! Do you understand?"


I'm grinning when I say, "Of course I do! Thank you darling."


As soon as I end the call, I ring the florist and order a dozen of their most beautiful roses to be delivered immediately to Helena at the office, with the message: Your boy will love you even more when he knows what you have done for him. Trust me. Kisses from K.



When I get to the Schiller Theatre, I'm in luck. The theatre manager, Lawrenz, is another one of us. I'm beginning to think we are the majority in Berlin. I tell him what I told his boss, and he swallows it; hook, line and sinker. He's even giggling when I put on my best feminine act as he introduces me to Herr Direktor (Herr Biermaier) of the S******** Boy's Choir.


Rather than shaking Herr Direktor's hand, I clasp mine to my bosom and adopt my womanly voice, "Oh, my darling man! Thank you so much for allowing me to watch you rehearsing. I was here last night with my very special friend, and I fell in love with all your boys. I want to mother them all. They're so beautiful, especially little Hansie! My friend thought I was silly. I was crying almost all the way home, because I've fallen in love with the little beauty. I've never been so moved. Herr Albrecht was so kind when I rang him. I'll keep out of your way. Please continue."


Herr Direktor finds me rather amusing, and he says "You can be our audience. I'll have the boys perform just for you. Please take a seat."


I take a seat at the front, right in the middle of the auditorium. Lawrenz has left me to it, and now I can begin my plotting in earnest. Aleric has seen me, and I can see he's puzzled. I think he recognises me from last night. Well, I'm hoping he does. I look directly at him, and wink, and when I do, I know he does, because his mouth opens and his face lights up like a beacon. Yes, Aleric Hahn aged thirteen, your face should light up, because I'm your saviour, and I'm about to deliver you into the warm arms of the most beautiful man on earth... you lucky boy!



When Herr Biermaier tells us to take a break and goes to meet the two men at the side of the stage, I don't take much notice. It's only when Conrad (the oldest boy in our choir) says in a whisper, "He's a queer if ever I saw one," and giggles, that I look across at the two men. One is the manager of the theatre, and the other is vaguely familiar. Even then I don't take too much notice. It's only when the man takes a seat immediately in front of us that my heart almost stops. I can't be absolutely sure, but I could almost swear he's the partner of my Beautiful Man, and when he winks at me, I am absolutely sure! The collywobbles I had last night are as nothing to how I'm feeling now. My head becomes light, and I almost stumble when I realise that this man is here especially to see me. My Beautiful Man has sent him! I knew he wouldn't let me down! I just knew it! Oh joy of joys; I will be seeing him again! I just knew it!


How I get through rehearsals, I don't know. I make a number of mistakes, and Herr Biermaier is almost angry at me. But I do get through it, and at four, we end our practice to prepare for the rest of the evening - a light dinner; a rest, and then the evening performance. Until I saw my Beautiful Man's partner, I was thinking of saying I was still feeling unwell so I could miss the performance, but now I decide not to. The moment Herr Biermaier calls a halt, the man is out of his seat and walks to the steps at the side of the stage, and joins us.


Even though he's very effeminate, he's a lovely man, and he's enthusiastically tactile as he praises and hugs many of the boys - especially Hans. I've never met anyone like him. And then he comes to me, takes hold of both my hands, looks directly into my eyes, and his voice is loud when he speaks, "Aleric! My very special friend was overwhelmed with your Pie Jesu! I've never seen him so soppy. All the way home, he never stopped talking about your voice! Gareth was so impressed that he's persuaded me to get tickets for your final performance tomorrow night, and because I love him so much, I've got the best seats, right at the front, and we've even been invited to your reception backstage when you're done. Isn't that wonderful? Promise me you'll make a fuss of him when you meet! Promise me! I'm almost jealous. I think he's fallen in love with your voice."


I grin at him. The boys are all grinning at him. He's embarrassed me, and I know the boys will tease me rotten for what he's doing to me, but I don't care. I know what he's doing is an act, and I play the game with him. "I promise, Sir. But I might steal him from you if he has lots of money."


"Call me Kurt, you naughty boy! Don't you dare steal him from me!" And then his face softens, and he sort of makes it obvious that he's teasing me. "Actually, although he's British, he is extremely wealthy, and he has a Bentley Continental!"


I laugh. "My favourite car, Kurt. I think I will steal him from you, but just for the car!"


Kurt presses my right hand, three times, deliberately, and I know it's a message. I return the signal, and then take my hands away, but not before I take an almighty chance, and whisper to him, "Tell Gareth I've not stopped thinking about him since last night."


He grins, and his eyes are full of sympathy, and he whispers back, "I know that. He's not stopped thinking about you either. That's why I've gone to so much trouble to get you two together! By the way, Gareth is not my partner, or anyone else's partner; he's my very special friend." Suddenly, he flaunts from the stage, turns, and shouts, "Bye-bye boys. See you all tomorrow night. I'll give you all kisses then. Must dash."




As I drive from the theatre, I begin to laugh. Probably because of the relief I'm feeling that I've achieved what I set out to do, and the thought crosses my mind that I may have missed my vocation. I should have been an actress!


It's 4.30 when I park the car and see that Gareth's two cars are in their parking spaces, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I've caught him at home. I use my code card to the apartments and make my way up to the top floor in the lift. I knock on Gareth's door. He opens it, and says, "What are you doing here?"


I ignore his surliness, and stare at him. "God... you look rough! Can I come in?"


He turns away, and I follow him into his apartment and close the door behind me. He picks up a half empty glass of Scotch and goes to the panoramic window that overlooks the Tiergarten, and sips at his drink while he stares out into the semi-darkness of the December evening as Aleric sings Pie Jesu on his CD player. Then, sarcastically, he says, "Thanks for the compliment! Do you want a drink?"


I go to him, put my hand on his shoulder, and pull him round so I can see into his bloodshot eyes. "You're not going to Verona tomorrow. You're meeting Aleric tomorrow night. I have tickets on the front row for us, and then we're attending a reception backstage. He'll be waiting for you. He says to tell you that he's not stopped thinking about you since last night." I can see the tears forming in his puzzled eyes, so I put an arm around his shoulder and lead him to the sofa, and I hug him tightly while I tell him everything. When I've finished, he hunches up and begins to cry, and I do, too, when I see how much hurt has been bottled up inside him. Only when I'm sure he's recovered do I pick up the phone and give it to him. "Ring Helena and tell her you won't be on that plane."


Gareth dries his eyes, and rings the office. "Hello Helena. Cancel the trip to Verona. Tell them I'm ill. I won't be going." He replaces the phone, and looks at me with sad eyes. "I don't deserve you."


Now, I know I can laugh and tease him. "Indeed you don't, you bad boy! I've told you about this drinking! I don't think Aleric will want to kiss a drunkard who stinks of whisky, do you?!"


My words bring Gareth out of his melancholy, and he grins. "Maybe not, but I'll settle for holding hands. Did he really say he hadn't stopped thinking about me since last night?"


"Would I tell you a lie? He whispered it to me just before I left him, but I didn't tell him you'd gone on a blinder because you'd been doing the same, you silly boy. You can tell him that yourself... when you two are canoodling in the back seat of your car and you're reminiscing about when you first met. Because I was so forward with him in my most ladylike way, I think his friends are going to tease him rotten. But he did say he only wanted to meet you because he loves your car. Maybe you can take him for a ride in it, and then stop at a romantic spot and make love to him. If you do, I want to know the minutiae of the event."


That makes Gareth chuckle. Thank goodness for that! I'll soon have him better. Well, Aleric and I will.



Just before the final curtain falls, I stare at the seats in the front of the auditorium, and I know that tomorrow night, my Gareth will be sitting there watching me. I won't cry, because then he and I will be meeting properly backstage. I might want to cry when I see him there. What will we do? I need to plan things.



As always, Herr Biermaier is punctual (thirty minutes after we get to the hotel). We're a bit late tonight because the reception lasted longer than usual, and he's had a couple of extra drinks. I can't use the excuse that I'm ill tonight. Thank goodness this is our last venue on this four week tour of the country. I'll be at home on Saturday; the day after the last performance, and he can't get to me there, and then, apart from the Christmas concert at our own cathedral, we have no more shows planned until the new year. I can easily give him the slip at Christmas, so that means now and tomorrow night are the last times he can do me.


His words are slurred as he tells me how much he loves me and how wonderful my body is as he takes off my pyjamas and strokes my pinkler to attention. Then he takes my hand and places it on his fat thing, and I begin to stroke it for him. I want to get this over tonight so I can plan for when I meet Gareth. Herr Biermaier is so predictable. He can only do it once, so how that happens is usually up to me. But he'll do me first. That's the order of things. I don't like his breath on my face, so I turn to him, and ask in my pretend, sexy voice, "Suck if for me tonight, Sir." That will get him out of my face.



I can give Gareth my mobile number, and today I set up a special email address. I sneaked off to the hotel facility and created one: Aleric1234Gareth@XXXX. He'll need that, my full name and address, my birthday 12th January. It won't be long. Perhaps he'll buy me something special. An Ipad? He's got lots of money, Kurt said.



"Turn over, Aleric. On your knees."


I do as he asks, and wait for his tongue licking my hole. He pulls my bum cheeks apart, and I hear him snuffling as his tongue goes deep into me. This, and when he's sucking me, and when I climax, are the pleasant things about what we do. This, is especially nice, because he's got the longest tongue I've ever seen! It's playing havoc with my insides now, and he certainly knows how to use it. I'd much rather take this, than his big thing, because, although his tongue goes in quite a way, I don't have to wait a while before it's comfortable. I haven't had a shower since I took a dump before the performance, but that never seems to bother him. In fact the more I smell down there, the more he seems to like it.



Kurt said Gareth had got a Bentley Continental. I love them! There was one on display in the City Centre showroom, alongside a Bugatti Veyron. We all had our pictures taken around the two cars. Although it wasn't really allowed, I got to sit in them both. The Bentley smelled of leather. I loved the smell. I'll talk to Gareth about the smell when I see him later.



His hand is on my stiff pinkler now, pulling it down between my open legs, and he's licking me from the underside of my swollen knob to the top of my bum crack. I haven't got any hairs, so there's nothing to stop him having access to all of me down there. He's gentle with my balls as he sucks them. My balls are pretty big, but I can't make stuff yet. The lentils we had for lunch are working on me, and I feel a fart coming. When I first did it, I was really embarrassed, but he soothed me and told me not to bother. `It's part of what I love about you', he'd said. I feel it escaping, and he buries his nose up my hole, and then begins to wank me. It won't be long now. He'll replace his nose with his tongue, and that will be it.



Will Gareth want to do this to me? Kurt is gay, and even though Gareth is just his friend, he's probably gay, too. Will I let him? Of course I will! I'll let him do anything to me for him to love me. He can put his pinkler up my bum if he wants to. I'll even do something I've always refused to do with Herr Biermaier; suck him off if he wants me to.



The tongue is really deep now, and he's thrashing it about inside, and I can feel his slobber running down the inside of my thighs. Phew! This is the best part. Yes Gareth, that's it! I want you to do this to me. That's it... pull my foreskin backwards and forwards. That's it, Gareth... like that! Oh yes! Oh yes! Do it Gareth! Do it!!!! Yeeeesssss! Ooooohhhhh! I love you Gareth! I love you!!!!


The lubricant is cold as he applies it to my hole. He pushes, and his fat thing plops into me. He pushes some more, and I relax and allow it to go deep inside me. I want to get this over quickly, so I reach between my legs and grab his hairy balls and pull him in and out. He likes this. He's thinking I want him doing it, and that spurs him on to greater action as he grabs my hips and pulls me on and off him. His belly is bashing at my bum cheeks now, and although it's becoming uncomfortable, I redouble my efforts on his balls. I'm rewarded when he thrusts deep into me and grinds his hairy belly on my bum as he shoots his stuff right up me. I can feel the warmth of it, and I know it will run out of me all night if I don't take a dump and get it out of me after he's gone.




Thank God for the lentils and the two apples I ate after dinner. My sloppy, smelly shit plops into the toilet pan, and I know it's cleaned him out of me. I just need to shower now. The hot water is lovely, and I scrub every trace of him off me. Thank goodness this is one of those showers where the shower head is portable. I take it off its clip, pull my bum cheeks wide, push it hard against my hole (which is still dilated from having his fat thing in me) enough to seal it, and allow the hot water to penetrate deep into me. When I release it, the water gushes out of me into the shower tray. It's discoloured, and smelly, and traces of everything, including him, are now gone. I rinse the dirty water into the plug hole, and that's gone. Just the bed to do now. I strip off the cover of the duvet, and the pillow cases, and throw them in an untidy heap in a corner of the room. My pyjamas are fine. I pushed them out of bed when he stripped me. I put them on, and spray Lynx deodorant over the bed and over my pyjamas. In the comfort of my now unsoiled bed, I giggle to myself. I'd pretended it was Gareth doing me when I reached my peak. That had been nice! I'll do that in future. But Gareth has got designer stubble on his face. It will either tickle or hurt. Maybe he'll shave for me. No! No! He'll feel like Herr Biermaier then! I wonder where he is now? I wonder if he's thinking about me like I'm thinking about him? Where does he live? He's British. I wonder what his second name is? Smith? That's a British name. Gareth Smith. I like it. Aleric Hahn loves Gareth Smith. Gareth Smith loves Aleric Hahn. I'll be seeing him tonight. I'll touch him for the first time. Everything I do tonight will be for him. I'll be the best ever tonight. For my Gareth Smith. I love you, Gareth Smith!


To be continued...

You can find my other stories on Nifty here.